


Priority

by mylordshesacactus



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was Miranda they were talking about. It's not like anyone could have kidnapped her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing serious enough to warrant an archive warning, but CW for mentions of child abuse and torture because, you know, Jack.

* * *

  _Current psych profile suggests that holding students hostage likely to be most successful tactic._

* * *

  
It was going fucking perfectly until they put a gun to Rademaker's head.

Team Grissom was kicking _ass_ , even Rodriguez, and this was what Jack lived for. She was thrumming with the rush of raw power, they were _winning_ , they were gonna be fine, and next to her Prangley even gave an exhilarated laugh as he sent a Cerberus goon flying so hard the floor cracked. And yet the whole time she couldn't shake that feeling—something was wrong, something was going to go wrong, something she couldn't stop, but she looked around and behind her and there was nothing there.

There was a low thum and the whir of gears as an Atlas lumbered its way awkwardly into the room—that was it, that had to be it, that was the problem she'd been sensing. She snarled and threw up as powerful a barrier as she could manage. They wanted to bring in the big guns? _Let 'em_. She could handle anything Cerberus could dish out.

Prangley was busy holding the doors, and she had her hands full. “Hey! Hanson!” she jerked her head toward an abandoned toolbox—probably left here by one of the engineer kids. Damn. Whoever it was, she hoped they'd been able to run for it. “You gonna spend all day painting your nails or _do some damage?_ We've got a damn Atlas mech to take out!”

Okay, so maybe Hanson wasn't so great at taking initiative, but the kid sure was quick on the uptake. He clenched his fist and whipped the steel box over his head like a fastball. A blur of biotics and some shattered glass later, one dead Atlas pilot.

“Nice one!” grinned Rodriguez, turning to look at him. Jack kicked the stupid kid's feet out from under her just in time to duck behind a pile of crates as the next wave of Cerberus mooks opened fire.

“Sorry, ma'am.”

“Don't be sorry, be smarter! And take these— _guys_ out!” Something was still wrong, something was going to go wrong, but god, there was nothing, and they were carving their way through this mob like fucking Krogan.

That was when she heard the click, and when she turned around to warp whoever it was into the next cycle Rademaker had her hands in the air and a white-plated arm around her throat and a Carnifex to her head, and just for a second Jack faltered.

“Wouldn't make any sudden moves, Zero,” the bastard smirked. “I might get twitchy.”

Rademaker tried to stomp on his toes and missed. “Kill him!” she choked. “Just _kill_ him!”

“Let her go,” Jack growled, “Or I'll splatter that thing you call a brain from here to Omega!”

He pressed the barrel harder against Rademaker's temple. “Hers splatter first. She's low-priority. File says we don't need her. You, though... boss told us to take Subject Zero alive.”

“Don't fucking call me that,” she snapped. “Don't you _ever_ fucking call me that in front of my kids!”

The surrounding Cerberus forces had their weapons up now, trained on the others; Rodriguez snapped up a shield but it was wavering, she was scared. A few rounds would take it down, and the others wouldn't last much longer, not even Prangley.

“Don't do it,” Rademaker whispered, like there was a snowball's chance in hell Jack was gonna let her die like this. “Don't do it, ma'am, I don't care what they do to me, _kill him_ , it's fine—”

“Shut up,” the mook growled. “You could make this a lot easier on your students,” he added evenly, like he hadn't just made a teenage girl sob in terror. “A couple of them are marked for priority, but not like you. The boss won't be happy if they have to die, but if that's what it takes to get Subject Zero back, well. That's what it takes.”

Prangley's biotics flared. “Back off, asshole.”

And she tried, she tried to tell him not to do anything stupid like try to protect her, but then the Cerberus bastard squeezed the trigger and then somehow one of the snipers had a bead on Prangley's forehead and he was down before she had time to shout—except, no, he wasn't, because they were being mobbed and she couldn't get in a good shot without catching them in the crossfire. Somehow there was a knee in her back and some kind of dampener, or maybe her biotics were just exhausted or maybe it was the confusion, she was fighting back without any effect and Rodriguez screamed and she couldn't _get_ to her, all around her the students were being physically wrestled to the ground and dragged off and she _couldn't get to them_ —

And then she was seeing things she couldn't possibly be seeing because she was strapped down, she knew she was strapped down, there was pain everywhere in her body and someone was screaming but it wasn't her, she felt like a little girl again—and she _couldn't possibly be seeing this_ but there was Prangley in a little rectangular cell, white all over except where his knuckles were leaving bloody marks while he punched frantically at a bulletproof two-way mirror, shouting abuse as on the other side Hanson arched and screamed at whatever they were injecting into him.

And Rodriguez was huddled in the corner of a dark room somewhere, sobbing hysterically and clutching her ears as the speakers fed her lie after lie, shaking her head and crying, _no, no, no, you're a liar, no, I won't, I don't believe you_ , and somewhere a voice was sneering _Subject Zero_ in her ear and that wasn't her—

“Jack.”

 _There hadn't_ been _a Cerberus operative there, she'd checked, how had he even been there, I have a name, you son of a bitch, get your fucking hands off them, they're_ children—

“Jack!”

Her eyes flew open and her wrists weren't tied anymore, and her fist flared as she swung a vicious punch at the first person she saw. They threw up their own shield in a blinding flash of blue and she swore as she was thrown off the bed, cracking her head on the nightstand on her way down and ending up tangled in way too many fucking blankets.

“Fuck—! What...?”

“Jack,” Miranda said urgently. “Jack, you're fine, it's me!”

Jack was not fine, she thought, but—yeah, Miranda, she knew Miranda, Miranda could be kind of a bitch but her heart was in the right place and she had nerves of fucking steel, she could trust her. She wasn't even Cerberus anymore, especially not now that... the war was over.

She stopped thrashing against the covers and flopped down to the floor. “Shit.”

Miranda shifted. “Are you all right?”

“Head hurts, what'd you think?” Now that she wasn't panicking, she could pull herself out of the blankets with only a little bit of trouble. “And now _apparently_ I'm getting nightmares, which is fucking perfect. I break anything?”

Miranda glanced off the edge of her side of the bed. “A glass of water,” she said. “But that may have been me.”

Jack shoved the awkward bundle of blankets at her. “Well you're just a fucking mess tonight, aren't you?”

That got a little chuckle, at least. “Clearly.” A pause; then, awkwardly, “Do you... want to talk about it?”

“Shit happened,” Jack said in summary. “I'm fine.”

Miranda sighed and rolled off the bed to set about disentangling the sheets. Jack caught one corner for her and held the edge steady. She was all domestic now, apparently. If she wasn't careful this crazy bitch would have her wearing _pajamas_ or something. Miranda should just consider it a testament to her charms that Jack had let herself be talked into sleeping in boxers. She did _not_ put clothes on for just anyone.

“There's no shame in it, you know,” Miranda said quietly while she tried to extract a topsheet from the mangled mess Jack had made of the comforter.

“In what?” Like she didn't know. Hey, she liked Miranda. Didn't mean she was always comfortable talking to her about Cerberus. It wasn't so much that she didn't trust her; she did, which was weird and still kind of freaked her out. Just... Miranda wasn't with them anymore, right? So she didn't need Jack reminding her that she used to be. Sucked having people constantly remind you of your mistakes.

Miranda looked up hesitantly. “Talking,” she offered. “Asking people for help. I had to learn that, too. I almost got my sister kidnapped before I figured it out. But you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.” She gave one of those weird mirthless laughs. “God knows I have secrets.”

“Yeah, well, your tits are pretty great, so I can forgive you.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” Miranda smirked, then shook out the last of the twists in the blankets. “Got it.”

Jack rolled her shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension while Miranda went to get a broom or something for her broken glass. Eezo whined outside the door, and Miranda clucked her tongue and cooed something reassuring at him as she slipped back inside. Jack let her biotics flare; it helped her get a sense of control back. Reminded her who she was. _Where_ she was. That the Reapers were gone, and Cerberus was finished, and her students were all right. Had been for almost a year now.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered as Miranda brushed up pieces of broken glass.

Miranda shook her head. “My fault,” she said calmly. “You caught me by surprise.”

Jack sighed and sat down on the end of the bed, running her hand through her hair. “Yeah. Didn't mean to punch you, though.”

Miranda's lips twitched. “You still haven't.”

“Shut up.” She cracked her neck. “I got my ass kicked by a table. Not running so hot right now.”

She felt Miranda waver, and then the mattress dipped as she came around the foot of the bed to sit next to her. “Jack,” she said softly. “Are you sure you're all right?”

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Whole damn galaxy's having nightmares. I'm fine.”

Miranda's fingers played gently along the edge of Jack's odd strip of hair, tracing a line of tattoos. “I can't imagine,” she murmured. “I didn't see much of the war. Not firsthand. Fighting the Reapers on the ground the way you did...” She leaned forward, insistent. “ _No one_ else could have gotten a group of students through that.”

Jack didn't move for a long time. But... Whatever this thing was, if Miranda was her girlfriend or something, well, Shepard was always talking about trust and communication and letting people help you and shit.

“Wasn't the Reapers,” she muttered finally.

“I'm sorry?”

“I said it _wasn't the fucking Reapers_ , okay?” Her biotics flared again, and she forced them back down. It wasn't Miranda's fault. She wasn't taking her anger out on innocent people just 'cause she was scared anymore. She was past that. She was _better_ than that now.

“All right,” Miranda said meekly. Her voice was tiny, which made Jack feel like shit. She forced herself to glance back over her shoulder for a second. That helped. Miranda in those stupidly fancy black silk pajamas was someone she... you know, cared about. No Cerberus logo on her chest anymore. Right. Jack wasn't the only one who was better than she used to be.

She took a deep breath. “The academy,” she said finally. “I was dreaming I was back at the Academy, except Shepard didn't show up.”

She heard Miranda's breath catch behind her. “Shepard never would have abandoned them,” she whispered. “Never.”

Jack swallowed. “Yeah, 'course she wouldn't have. You weren't there, cheerleader, we were holding on by our fingernails. I'm not talking days, what if she'd been on a mission or in a meeting or something? A few more _hours_ and she'd have shown up and found an empty fucking school and—” Her voice faltered. “Shit, I—they wanted my kids! _Cerberus!_ Everything they did to me and they wanted my fucking _kids_. They wanted to—to run tests on 'em or some shit, indoctrinate them, use them for... I don't know. I don't _know_. Turn a bunch of sweet stupid teenagers into killing machines. If Shepard hadn't shown up when she did...”

Miranda's fingers brushed the inside of her elbow, and she let herself trail off, swallowing hard and telling herself she was _not_ crying. Wasn't happening. No way in hell.

“They scare you worse than the Reapers,” Miranda said softly. Jack nodded.

“Rather face the whole fucking Reaper army myself than watch those bastards touch my kids,” she breathed. “Reapers, at least they're machines. They don't... laugh. They just want you dead, you kill them, you kill more of them, Shepard saves the galaxy, we all go home.” She paused. “It makes _sense_. People who are supposed to be human and hurt little kids, and then hurt 'em more, and keep doing it over and over for no reason, that's different. You can't fight that. You can kill the sick fuckers who do it but you can't make it make sense.”

Miranda's fingers trembled as she ran them through Jack's hair again. She made a little noise like she was going to speak, then shook her head and just leaned into her. Jack reached over automatically and squeezed the fingers of her free hand.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “I'll be fine. It's all over now, remember?”

Miranda gave a shaky sigh and nodded, turning her head to kiss the old scar on Jack's throat before she stood up.

Jack rolled onto the bed, staring at the ceiling while Miranda climbed back under the covers.

“Look,” she said finally. “It gets any worse, I'll... I dunno, talk to a shrink or something, okay? Shit. You've got me wearing pants to bed, might as well go all the way, right?” Miranda snorted. “Until then, I can handle it.”

“You shouldn't have to,” said Miranda.

She folded her arms under her head, glanced down as Miranda shifted closer to her side before contemplating the ceiling again.

“You're telling me, Princess. You're telling me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

So Eezo almost killed Liara.

Hey, it wasn't his fault, okay? He'd spent the whole trip in a travel crate in a cargo hold and he was excited to be outside again. He hadn't been hurt or scared or anything, Jack made sure of that; he was just a young, energetic varren and didn't like being cooped up for the whole trip from Illium to Thessia. And, you know, Liara just happened to be standing right in front of a flight of stairs leading out of the landing bay.

Which meant he tried to tackle a pregnant asari down a flight of stone steps. Oops.

Luckily Shepard body-checked him out of the way at the last second. Jack was worried at first that he might snap at her—Eezo was getting so much better, but sometimes he still reacted weird if he thought a stranger was going to hurt him. But the little guy just seemed overjoyed that someone wanted to play, and jumped up happily to lick Shepard's face.

“Uh. Hey, Eezo,” she stammered, flattening his frills. He wiggled with joy and shoved her with his head, sending her stumbling back against Liara.

Jack grinned and rubbed her neck. “Sorry. He hasn't traveled much. Guess he's a little excited.”

“No harm— _whoa!_ —done,” said Shepard, leaping over Eezo's tail as he tried to chase it and almost whipped her in the shins.

Liara sidestepped them both delicately. “We're glad you could make it, Jack.” She looked pretty good. Bump was starting to show, and... it actually kind of suited her. With the gross mushy lovey-dovey stuff and all. Fuck. Her and Shepard were _cute_ , okay? Jack didn't even do cute and it was still cute. 

Jack leaned against a pillar and watched Eezo wriggle happily around like a landed fish while Shepard enthusiastically scratched his belly. “Yeah. Thanks for the invite, Blue. Cheerleader's place is nice and all, but it hasn't got much extra space. We're not really the _entertaining_ sort.”

Eezo sneezed and sent a biotic blast at a potted plant, which exploded.

Liara's lips twitched. “We'd hoped Miranda would come as well. Is she all right?”

Jack waved off her concern. “She wanted to check on her sister or something. I think it's her birthday. Or, you know, whatever those two've got. The day they escaped, I guess. I'd have gone with her, but... I dunno.” She looked determinedly at a wall. “It's sort of their thing, you know? I'd just get in the way.”

“I'm certain she wouldn't have invited you if she didn't want you there,” Liara said sternly.

Jack shrugged, tried to pretend the thought didn't make her happy. “Maybe next time. Anyway, she said she'd come in a few days.”

Eezo waved his paws in the air and gnawed happily on a handrail he'd gotten from somewhere, and Shepard coughed as an irate-looking volus approached from across the lobby.

“Hey,” she started out with a friendly smile. “So, look, we can pay for the damage...”

Liara sighed.

That had been three days ago. Eezo'd gotten a chance to run around on the T'Soni estate, and Aethyta'd dropped by with some titanium rods for him to chew on—Liara's dad was all right, she didn't get all Morally Righteous about the whole vandalism incident and she had some fucking great stories.

Anyway, now that he'd had time to wind down there was no need for that volus to be hovering so close. Eezo was on his best behavior, lying happily at Jack's feet and tilting his head so she could scratch under his chin. His tongue lolled out past his fangs, and she rubbed her knuckles between his big amber eyes.

“Who's my buddy, huh?” He whined and thumped his tail on the ground. The volus flinched. “Yeah. You're my good boy!” She wrapped an arm around his neck and shook his head affectionately. “You excited? I bet you're excited. You miss the kids? Miss being spoiled all the time? Some badass you are. You're just a big puppy. Yes you are!”

Shepard nudged her. “Hey. Jack.” She nodded across the landing bay with that damn soft smile that could somehow get people to throw themselves at Collectors because it made them feel so good. “Think that's your shuttle.”

Jack looked up and straightened her jacket. Hey, she had an aura of menace to keep up, all right?

Bellarmine gave his best taxicab whistle from the other side of the lobby, waving with one arm and carrying a duffel bag under the other. Prangley grinned next to him and threw her a casual salute.

“Sorry we're late, ma'am!” he called. “Connection got delayed.”

She grinned and pushed herself up off the bench. “Yeah, travel's still a bitch. Where're the others?”

“We're here,” said Hanson, shouldering through the crowd with Rademaker right behind him. Prangley grinned and held out a fist for that little secret-handshake thing they'd started up at the Academy. “My stupid shoulder set off security again.”

“We can't take him anywhere, ma'am!” Prangley exclaimed. He punched his friend in the arm. “Just _had_ to get shrapnel lodged up in there, didn't you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”

“Hey,” said Jack mildly. “Watch your mouth.”

While everyone stared at her and she ignored them—look, if her kids started cussing, Kahlee was gonna _kill_ her, okay?—Rodriguez finally managed to fight her way through the crowd.

“Eezo!” she exclaimed, dropping her bag in an empty seat and squatting down to kiss his head. “Hey there, big guy. Did you miss me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack drawled. “He's been pining away. Everyone got their shit?” There was a chorus of affirmatives. “Good. Hate for Rodriguez to forget her tiara or something.”

“Screw you, ma'am.”

Jack kicked the girl lightly and rolled her shoulders. “So what the hell have you guys been up to?” They'd all been helping to rebuild after the war, but they'd run themselves ragged; there were too many dead, not enough powerful biotics, and nobody else like them who was used to coordinating as a team. Eventually Kahlee had threatened to have them all put in medical comas if they didn't take at least two months of leave to recharge. Jack had ended up staying with Miranda, and the kids had sort of scattered.

“Nothing special,” said Hanson. “Joined an amateur biotiball league near home. Just a few local matches,” he said hastily, as Jack had rounded on him like she was gonna deck the kid. They were supposed to be recharging. “Not competitive. It was fun! It gives people a distraction, you know? Something to do while we're rebuilding.”

“Didn't end up in a pleasure resort after all, huh?” Jack said drily.

“Hell no, ma'am,” smirked Rademaker.

Jack laughed. “You're all nuts. How about you, huh? Take up knitting?”

Rademaker shook her head, looking a little shy. Hanson reached out automatically to hold her bag for her while she dug through it with the hand she had left. Those Harvesters were something else.

“I took some drawing classes,” she admitted, like she thought Jack would make fun of her for it. Which, yeah, she might have normally, but she didn't need Shepard to tell her you didn't tease kids over something they _cared_ about. That wasn't ribbing, that was just being a dick. “I've been trying to develop a style.” She finally pulled out a sketchbook and handed it over.

Jack flipped through the book with growing interest. Kid wasn't bad, actually. “Are these... are these _tattoo designs_ , Rademaker?”

The girl blushed and grinned. “Yeah. Just ideas, but... I'm planning a half sleeve. Obviously,” she added, gesturing to her right arm—the one that ended at the elbow. “One of those flying husk things. Because... you know. They lost a lot more than an arm.”

“Damn.” That was ambitious. “I like it. Let me know when you've got the design done, I can send you some good places.” She thought about it, then laughed. “I mean, not exactly from experience, but I've got _resources_ now, apparently. Hell, I'll do it for you if you want, but if you'd rather just have it be your thing at least find someone decent.”

Rademaker accepted her sketchbook back, looking equal parts embarrassed and pleased. “I was, um,” she stammered. “I thought maybe you could give me some advice?”

Jack clapped her shoulder. “Big ones hurt like a bitch and if you go to some sleazy hole-in-the-wall place I'll kick your ass,” she said promptly. “Other than that, only thing that matters is whether you like it.”

She nodded. “Thanks, ma'am.”

Jack shoved her shoulder affectionately. “Right! Everyone get your stuff, let's get outta here. Hey, Bellarmine, on the way over you've gotta tell me about how that project of yours is coming along, right?” Bellarmine was sort of a special case; he was Jack's, completely hers, but just because a kid was a biotic didn't mean he couldn't be good at other stuff. So he was sort of dual-enrolled, split his time between biotic training and engineering. Shit-ton of extra classes, but he never complained.

The kids straightened up when Shepard crossed over to greet them. Jack rolled her eyes. Yeah, all these guys had known where they were staying—hell, they'd _met_ Shepard before, come on—but they were still kids, and meeting the savior of the galaxy in a firefight was a lot different from a personal invitation to stay at her house.

Not that Shepard apparently realized it. “Hey,” she said casually. “Everyone ready?”

Jack whistled. “Eezo! Stop trying to lick Rodriguez's face off. Come on. Heel.” He sat on her feet, which she figured was close enough. Shepard greeted the kids by name and Jack was pretty sure it made their whole week.

“Reiley, right?” she guessed when she got to Bellarmine. “Your sister okay?”

He nodded. “Got through the war just fine, ma'am. Thank you.”

Shepard shook her head. “Don't mention it. Jack, the duty manager's getting nervous. We might want to hit the road.”

“Eezo broke the landing bay,” Jack explained.

“Thanks for letting us stay here, sir,” said Prangley. “Looks like we owe you one again.”

“Ah, c'mon.” Shepard waved a hand. “My pleasure. Anyway, it's Liara's place. The trip went all right? You guys hungry?”

Jack snorted. “You're asking a bunch of _biotic teenagers_ if they're _hungry?_ These guys can clear out every pizza in a sector after a good workout. Hope you stocked the fridge, or they're gonna end up eating your grass.”

Prangley was still stuck on the mention of food. “I could eat,” he said hopefully.

Jack smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, yeah, all right. C'mon, Eezo! Let's go get you guys settled in.”

* * *

“Never have I ever... screamed watching a horror vid.”

“Aw, c'mon,” Rodriguez complained. “That was _one_ time!”

“Still did it,” said Hanson smugly. She punched his shoulder and downed a shot. Watered-down, of course. Like Jack was gonna let them play this with straight vodka. Or straight _anything_. Please.

“Give 'im hell, Rodriguez,” she called from her spot leaning against the kitchen counter. She was 'chaperoning'. Someone had to keep an eye on these lunatics, after all. She glanced at the clock.

Rodriguez sat back and thought. “Never have I ever... hmm.” She cocked her head, then grinned. “Bought a pregnancy test. For an asari who didn't even _meld_ with me.”

The others cracked up as Hanson groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Nice one!”

“Damn, I forgot about that!”

Jack chuckled. “Play the game, kids,” she warned them. “You guys are a unit, remember?”

Hanson tossed his watery shot back and held up his hands. “No, I deserved that one. _Ouch_. All right, all right. Never have I ever... gotten motion sick on reentry.”

Everyone but Prangley silently clinked shot glasses together.

“Wimps,” Jack commented for effect. Everyone, including Prangley, flipped her off. “Oh, you guys are _paying_ for that later. Prangley! How many pushups do you think you can give me in two hours?”

“Never have I ever wished we'd played Scrabble instead, ma'am,” he said immediately.

“ _That's_ right,” Jack smirked as her kids toasted her. “Shoulda gone with Truth Or Dare.”

“Not happening. I like the house in one piece.”

Jack rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Shepard. I'm maintaining discipline.”

“Bullshit!” Prangley protested. “These are terror tactics!”

“You want to do jumping jacks too? No? Didn't think so.”

Shepard leaned against the counter next to her. “I take it the game's going well.”

“Eh, they're having fun.” Jack cracked her knuckles and checked the time again. “Now, get _me_ in one of these, it's a party.”

Shepard shook her head warmly. “Is there anything left you haven't done?”

“You know, I still haven't nailed an asari. Liara got plans this weekend?” Shepard glared at her, and Jack winked. “Never liked that melding shit. I like to keep my thoughts to myself. So, you know, I'll leave that one to you.”

Shepard was still glaring. “Liara'll be brokenhearted.”

“Wow. Girlfriend's pretty desperate. I didn't realize the Savior of the Galaxy was such a terrible lay.”

“Okay, we're done here.” Shepard stepped away from the counter with an exasperated sigh, and Jack cackled. “You guys have fun.”

“Coward,” Jack smirked. “The great Commander Shepard backing down from a fight?”

“Hey, I only came out here to check on you anyway.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the fridge. “That's like the third time you've checked the clock in the last five minutes. It's making Liara twitchy.”

“...What the hell?” She'd barely even seen Liara since dinner.

Shepard gave a long-suffering sigh. She looked over to check that the kids weren't listening in, and smiled a bit when she confirmed that they were still laughing and shoving each other, sitting in a circle on the living room floor. “You seriously expected the Shadow Broker not to have bugs everywhere? Hey, Liara,” she added, waving to an innocuous spot near the kitchen light.

Jack stared at her. “Yeah,” she decided finally. “Okay, that's just fucking creepy.”

Shepard had a look on her face like _you're telling me_. “So what's on your mind, Jack?”

Jack ran her hand through her hair. “It's probably nothing,” she said. “Don't worry about it.”

Shepard waited.

She sighed. “The cheerleader was gonna call this afternoon,” she admitted grudgingly. “I mean, you guys invited her, so. Yeah. Let everyone know when she was showing up and shit.”

Shepard frowned. “It's not like Miranda to be late. You think something's happened?”

Well... yeah, of course that's what she thought. But that was just Jack, right? She was a paranoid lunatic, everyone knew that. Of course she defaulted to thinking that anything out of the ordinary was a threat. Cheerleader probably just lost track of time or something. Like, shit. This was Miranda they were talking about. She had backup plans for her backup plans. It wasn't like anyone could have _kidnapped_ her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Somehow, Miranda had gotten herself fucking kidnapped.

Yeah, Jack had no fucking idea how that had happened. From what she could tell, neither did anyone else. But all the evidence said she'd disappeared, and it didn't look like she'd gone willingly. Liara had tracked her Omnitool and sent an agent to the location; someone had tossed it down a sewer without bothering to wipe it. No way would Miranda be that careless.

How the _fuck_ did someone kidnap _Miranda?_

Eezo whined and pawed at her leg, and she had to resist the urge to push him away. That wouldn't help. Little guy was just worried about her, he wouldn't understand that she was scared too and _really_ wanted something to rip to pieces. He was just starting to trust people, she couldn't start yelling at him for no reason.

Prangley knocked hesitantly on the entrance to the living room. She acknowledged him with a stiff nod.

“Any luck, ma'am?” he asked. She glanced up and saw the others hovering behind him like they were waiting for news, too. Shit. Some reunion this had turned out to be.

“Liara's the best f—the best information broker in the galaxy,” she said with more certainty than she felt. “She'll figure it out. Assholes can't hide forever.” She didn't say what she was really thinking; the kids had to believe in a rescue as long as they could. Jack wasn't sure it was gonna happen. Shepard and Liara kept talking like that, so she was trying to believe it, but... she'd seen more shit than them, and Miranda was drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous, and there were a lot of ways someone who looked like her could disappear.

A lock clicked downstairs, and they all turned to look as Shepard let herself out of Liara's 'office'. It was a good thing these kids had never actually met a normal information broker, because they were pretty smart and Liara wasn't exactly subtle. At the moment, though, they all had more important things to worry about than a smart-mouthed asari's career choices.

Shepard nodded to the kids before turning to Jack. “Good news,” she said quietly, and the relief in her voice made Jack reconsider her assumption that Shepard just hadn't thought about the more mundane reasons Miranda could have gone missing. “Relatively speaking. She's alive.”

There were sighs of relief from the kids, and Rademaker and Hanson even exchanged a brief fistbump.

Shepard smiled tightly and took pity on the desperate look in Jack's eyes. “Liara got a hit—a contact with a day job that just happened to be across from the docking bay where she disappeared. They had someone cut the feed from the security cameras, so otherwise we wouldn't have any records. Looks like whoever it was, they got their hands on an ambulance somehow. She's tracking it down now. We should have some idea of what's going on in a few minutes.”

Well, there was some good fucking news for once. So, okay, Liara'd been right. Looked like this actually _was_ a kidnapping. It was probably a bad sign that Jack was relieved.

Shepard's wrist buzzed, and she brought the message up instinctively. She scanned it, then looked over her shoulder.

“You know I'm ten feet down the hall, right?” she called.

There was a pause, and then another buzz as another message popped up. Jack figured it said something like “Yes.” Liara could be really, really annoying when she was in Shadow Broker mode.

Shepard shook her head but couldn't hide a dorky little smile. Those two were _gross_. She hoped they realized that wearing clean pants and an entire vest for their sugar-frosted wedding was all the concession she was ever making. If Liara thought she was gonna pair her off, she was dead wrong.

“Fake ambulance,” Shepard reported. “Found abandoned a few blocks away, Liara's sending someone look it over in case they left anything. We're working on getting surveillance footage from the area. It shouldn't take long.”

Rodriguez inched nervously into the room, and Shepard gave her an encouraging smile. Always had been good at that, Jack remembered, and forced herself to relax a bit. Since when had Commander Shepard let anything happen to her team?

She looked up and nodded to Rodriguez. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi, ma'am,” she said with a weak smile, and sat down on the couch. “We were, um—Bellarmine was gonna make a coffee run. Do you... want anything?”

She wanted Miranda back so she could kick her perfect ass for being this _stupid_ , but with the way tonight was going coffee didn't sound half bad. “None of your iced crap,” she decided. “Just something strong.”

“Double that,” Shepard said, stretching. She dug in her pocket and handed Rodriguez a credit chit. “I can send you guys directions if you want.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Rodriguez, trying to hand the chit back. “You don't have to—”

“She's made of fucking money, Rodriguez,” Jack interrupted. “Let her buy the damn coffee.” Rodriguez blushed and hurried back to the others.

“I thought you were watching your language,” Shepard smirked.

“I'm off duty,” snapped Jack.

Shepard turned serious, crossing the room to sit next to her.

“We'll find her, Jack,” she said quietly. “I promise. As soon as we've got something solid we can trace, we're going after her.”

Jack paused, then nodded slowly. “How're we getting there?” She hated waiting. She _hated_ it. But escape plans and taking stock of resources, that she could do. “I thought EDI was still off her nut.”

The destruction of the Reapers had done a number on EDI. Somehow, she was still alive and mostly conscious; best they could tell, her little habit of altering her own code to fit her worldview had probably saved her life. She was just _barely_ different enough from true Reaper code to survive the purge, but the bits she hadn't altered had been erased, and apparently they were important ones. She could still remember her family—and, yeah, even Jack had joined in the cheering when the AI had booted up and recognized Joker right away. She wasn't heartless.

So EDI knew who she was, but she'd lost chunks of memory and couldn't stay online for more than a few minutes at a time anymore. The Normandy was grounded on Rannoch for the foreseeable future while Tali and some other eggheads tried to work out how to fix her.

Which meant _they_ were grounded on Thessia, unless they were going to book a civilian flight. One of those probably wouldn't let Jack ride in the engine room.

“I'm working on that.” Shepard leaned forward. “There's some perks to being the savior of the galaxy, you know. Lots and lots of favors to pull in.” Her Omnitool buzzed again. “And... speak of the devil.” She turned to include Jack in the exchange, and brought up the holo. “Hey, Aria.”

“Shepard,” the Queen of Omega greeted her. There was a hint of a smile on her lips, but just barely.

Shepard sighed. “Jack, this is Aria. Aria, Jack.”

“No shit,” said Jack, who wasn't so stupid she couldn't recognize Aria T'Loak when she saw her. Did Shepard seriously think she'd _never_ ended up on Omega?

Aria's eyebrows went up. “Subject Zero,” she said coolly. “I don't believe I've had the pleasure.”

“Didn't exactly hang out at Afterlife,” said Jack. “Not my speed. Too tame.”

Aria's lips twitched as she refocused on Shepard. “You said you needed a favor,” she said matter-of-factly, though Jack could almost swear—was the Queen of Omega _flirting?_ “Favors from me are valuable at the moment... so count yourself lucky,” she added with a quick, almost playful smile. Holy shit. She was _definitely_ flirting with Shepard. It'd be almost cute if Jack didn't kind of have _more important things to worry about_. “I'm sure we'll find a way for you to make it worth my time.”

Shepard sat up. “A friend of mine's gone missing,” she said, and Jack was glad she wasn't wasting any more time. “Miranda Lawson. She was last seen on Illium, but just in case they've taken her offworld—”

Aria rolled her eyes. “They've taken her offworld,” she said. “There's no information on Illium that can't be bought for the right price. Anything likely to attract attention avoids that place like the plague.”

Shepard plowed forward. “I'd appreciate you keeping your ear to the ground,” she insisted. “Miranda means a lot to us, and we owe her.”

Aria shook her head, looking amused. “What,” she said condescendingly, “You think they'd bring her to _Omega?_ ”

Shepard blinked a bit at her reaction, but held her hands up and answered calmly, “We're just trying to cover all our bases. If you hear anything unusual, will you let me or Liara know?”

Aria was openly smirking now. “ _No one_ brings a high-priority kidnapping victim to Omega, Shepard,” she said, sitting back and resting her elbows on the back of her couch. She almost sounded pitying. “There are no secrets on my station and everyone knows it. Honestly. It's like this is your first kidnapping.”

This lady's careless attitude was starting to grate on Jack, but at least she was making sense. “They'd take her somewhere out of the way,” she said impatiently. “I don't know—a colony world, or something?”

“Or something.” Now _Aria_ was looking impatient. Not so much at the lack of progress as their substandard organized-crime skills, Jack figured. Hey, her specialty was _dis_ organized crime, okay? Everything else had too many fucking rules. “Bray,” she said sharply, and a batarian sidled into the frame, grinning when he saw Shepard.

“Yeah, boss?” he asked.

Aria examined her nails. “If I told you to kidnap Miranda Lawson, where would you take her?”

Bray didn't miss a beat. “You don't pay me enough to kidnap Miranda Lawson.”

Aria rolled her eyes and shifted, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again in the other direction. “Do you remember that time you completely failed to keep track of a single turian in a sealed bunker? Because I remember it _distinctly._ ”

“Keep her in a cargo hold,” he said immediately. “Buy off an unattached freighter. Deep space, random coordinates. Biotic dampeners if you needed her conscious, otherwise heavy sedation. If possible I'd leave her alone with security cameras and keep the guard just outside the nearest airtight door; that way we could threaten to vent the hold if we were tracked.”

“Good boy,” Aria murmured, but there was something dark in her eyes now that Jack didn't like. She looked like she'd gotten tired of whatever game she played with Shepard in the span of, like, two seconds. And they called _Jack_ crazy.

Focusing on Shepard again, Aria said, “You'll be needing a ship, then, with the Normandy... out of commission.”

“Anything you can do would be appreciated,” Shepard said gratefully.

Aria pulled up an Omnitool with a long-suffering sigh.“I'm rerouting a Suns raider to the T'Soni estate. They'll be there in three standard hours. I'll look through Omega's shipping manifests for the next few days, but I won't find anything.” She still hadn't raised her voice, though it had gone colder when she snapped at her bodyguard about whatever turian he'd lost. Now she just sounded like she wanted to get rid of them. “You'll have better luck checking departures from Lawson's area of Illium and seeing which ships haven't turned up where they were expected. Normally that would be nearly impossible, but somehow I think your _bondmate_ can figure it out.”

“Liara?” Shepard asked. A pause, and then her Omnitool buzzed and a short message popped up. Jack couldn't read it from this angle, but Shepard nodded once and closed it. “Thanks, Aria. I should let you go.”

Aria scoffed. Jack didn't exactly do _feelings_ , but she thought the hardass asari sounded sad or something—not exactly upset, just a little unhappy. Damn. She hadn't thought Aria's thing with Shepard was _that_ bad. There was probably something Jack was missing. She'd be curious if she actually gave a shit.

“I'll be in touch,” Aria said shortly, and disconnected.

* * *

“No fucking way.”

Prangley folded his arms stubbornly, like Jack was gonna be intimidated or something.

“We're coming too,” he insisted. “We want to help.”

“You don't even know her!” Jack exclaimed. “Forget it, you're staying.”

“She's important to you,” Rodriguez interjected. “And we can help. None of these Blue Suns guys are half as good as us!”

Shepard cleared her throat. “Those _Blue Suns guys_ are career mercenaries,” she said warningly. “This crew's only got a handful of biotics, but most of them have been doing this since before you were born.”

“ _Don't get cocky,_ ” Jack translated.

“Sorry, ma'am.” Prangley's contrition lasted a whole half a second. “We still want to help!”

Jack looked over at Shepard, exasperated. They were just waiting on Liara to get them a starting location and then they were gone—she didn't have time to argue with a bunch of teenagers in their pajamas who wanted to be heroes.

Shepard, the filthy traitor, just shrugged and held her hands up. “It's your call, Jack,” she said. “These guys have faced Reapers. If they want to come, I won't stop them.”

...Well, when you put it like that, Jack's concern just sounded stupid. And... yeah, all right. She was damn proud of her kids. It wasn't that she didn't think they could do it. They just... shouldn't have to. They were supposed to be _done_ with fighting now. They weren't _her_. Yeah, she wanted to pass on a little of her charm, but she didn't want her kids thinking they should always be looking for a fight. That was all right for a crazy bitch like her, but she never had a choice. They did. They _needed_ to be better than she was.

“I'd bring them, if I were you.” They looked over to find the Suns captain had invited herself inside. She wasn't bad-looking, Jack supposed, for a turian. Never really been her thing. This one could do with an attitude adjustment, though. “We're following our orders to the letter and not one step further. I know the kind of enemies you've got, Shepard. If any of the crew volunteers to go with you I won't stop them, but we're not cannon fodder.”

Shepard didn't look happy, but she didn't argue. “I understand. We can't ask you to die for us.”

“Not for free,” the turian agreed. “Aria said we go where you tell us, give you whatever weapons and equipment you want, and patch your team up if they need it. Nothing in there about a boarding party.”

Prangley jumped on the opening. “See?” he said. “You _have_ to take us.”

“I don't have to do shit, Prangley.” Jack shot him her best _fuck-with-me-and-I-will-end-you_ glare, which didn't exactly work. Teenage guys had worse survival instincts than fucking Shepard sometimes. And Shepard had died before. _Twice._

“But—!” Hanson protested. She shut him up with a look.

“You go in with full medigel dispensers, you stick to barriers unless one of us tells you to take a shot, and you listen to Shepard or your ass is on probation until you graduate.” She crossed her arms and glowered as they grinned. “I didn't drag you through the Reaper war to watch you get killed by some goddamn mercenaries!”

“No offense,” Shepard told the Suns chick.

“None taken,” she said flatly. “I'm fine with not being a Reaper. Appreciate that, by the way. Not enough to work for free but, you know, I appreciate it.”

“And _you_ ,” Jack snapped at Rodriguez, who jumped about a foot in the air. “What am I gonna do to you if you forget to watch your barriers?”

“Fillet me alive, kick my ass, and then put me on dish duty for the next goddamn cycle, ma'am,” Rodriguez said, grinning as she snapped her a salute.

“You think that's funny? I don't bluff, Rodriguez. _Watch your damn barriers_.” There was a chorus of “yes, ma'am”s, and Jack glared at all of them for a few seconds just to make a point. “Now all of you go put some real clothes on before I change my mind!”

They scattered.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“You have a gift with children,” the Blue Suns captain observed flatly.

“Fuck off, bird-legs.”

Shepard cleared her throat. “Hey, Liara,” she called, a little louder than strictly necessary. “Any progress?”

Liara's voice surprised them all by responding from just outside the room. “Significantly more than I expected,” she said as she let herself in. “This whole operation is... extremely confusing. Certain aspects must have required split-second timing and extensive arrangement, and yet others are astoundingly sloppy. It is almost as if they are following only half of a plan. I would suspect a trick, but... I honestly cannot see how one would be possible. They have left a great many fingerprints.”

The turian captain stirred and nodded to Shepard. “Commander,” she said, almost politely, before letting herself back outside. Jack figured she didn't want to know too much. Maybe she was smarter than she looked.

Shepard turned to Liara. “So you found something?”

Liara's smile was almost predatory. “Several somethings, in fact. I am still missing several key elements, but the details are much less important than Miranda's location, and I believe I have found _that_ with reasonable certainty. Aria was correct about one thing; she was taken off Illium on a passenger vessel called the _Meteor_ less than an hour after her abduction. That was the part of the operation I found worryingly professional.”

Shepard's eyebrows went up. “You cross-referenced the ship that fast? Aria made it sound like it'd take a lot longer.”

“No,” Liara smirked. “I used surveillance footage from the lot where the ambulance was abandoned to acquire the registration number of the taxi they took, and sent an anonymous message to... discuss the matter with its driver. It was much faster and, ultimately, Aria's method would not have worked.”

“Liara...” Shepard sounded resigned.

“I had no desire to hurt the man, Shepard,” Liara chided. “Nor did I have a need. His memory of the event was greatly improved by the reward I offered for the name of their ship.”

Shepard shook her head and sighed. “So we track the ship?”

“The ship itself is on the Citadel,” Liara informed them. “Which is why I am glad I chose the method I did; it arrived exactly where and when it was scheduled to. Following it would get us nowhere. I thought at first I would have to go through even more surveillance footage, but I discovered something much more interesting in the _Meteor's_ docking report to C-Sec. Apparently, there was an alarm en route—a faulty fire alarm, it was determined. The end result of this is that the escape pods unlocked when it went off. None were fired, and yet upon arrival at the Citadel one of them was missing.”

Jack scoffed. “Getting an escape pod to detach isn't exactly hard, Blue. Engineers make 'em so they won't _fail_. Too much security on those things on a passenger ship would be missing the point. _I_ could probably hack one if I had to.”

Liara smiled. “Precisely. The _Meteor_ has established that no passengers were missing, and as such have determined it would not be worth the effort to track down the missing pod. I expect that all passengers being accounted for means whoever is behind this has a contact on the Citadel, capable of inputting false arrival information. Again, not an unduly difficult assignment. If their contact worked in arrivals it would even be undetectable. I will have Glyph run background checks on commercial arrivals personnel when this is over, just to be safe.”

Jack really wished she had a knife or something to fiddle with. Eezo nudged her leg, and she shook him gratefully by the frill. “And in the meantime?” she demanded.

Liara looked up and nodded to her. “I tracked the _Meteor's_ course from Illium to the Citadel and approximated its location at the time of the alarm.” She glanced at Shepard, looking frustrated. “I wish I could go with you,” she complained. “We have no way of knowing what you may find at these coordinates.”

“Yeah,” said Shepard. “That's not happening.”

“Of course not,” Liara agreed. “This is... frustrating, that's all. I worry, Shepard. Can you blame me?”

Jack was grateful the kids arrived when they did. Gave her a distraction from the mush going on in the corner.

She had to admit, her guys knew when to get serious. She nodded to Prangley when he came in; the others were fanned out behind him on instinct, with Rodriguez directly to his left and mostly behind him, Hanson on her flank—a solid, protected position where she could focus without being exposed too much. They all knew she wasn't as powerful a biotic as the others. No shame in that. And Rademaker was right where she belonged, at Prangley's right hand. She was their default rearguard. Second-strongest biotic in the group; not much of a leader and didn't have Rodriguez's head for strategy, but she was solid as a fucking rock even with just the one arm.

She couldn't help grinning a bit when she noticed what they were wearing. “Grissom Academy uniform, guys? Really? Why the hell did you even bring those things?”

“Nostalgia?” offered Bellarmine.

Prangley added, “Gets us in the right mindset, ma'am. More focused.”

“Good.” Shepard had apparently finished her thing with her bondmate over in the corner and was getting back to business. Liara was tucked against her side doing that dopey smiling thing again, but just squeezed Shepard's hand and nodded to the others before she went back to her little lair. Maybe they could _do_ something now. “All right, guys,” she said, and Jack and the kids straightened up automatically. “Liara's gonna keep an eye on things from here and let us know if she finds any more information on what's going on, but we've got a starting point. Jack, you ready?”

Jack stood up fast enough to make Eezo jump. “I've been ready for five fucking hours, Shepard! Are we going or not?”

Shepard nodded toward the door. “All right, then. Let's move.”

=

There wasn't anything there. Of course. That would be too fucking easy.

Shepard acted like she'd expected this, because of course she did. At least they were probably closer here than they'd been before. But 'here' was basically just 'floating dead in space' as far as Jack could tell, and her patience was running out. She hadn't had much of that to start out with; she was inches away from ripping holes in the bulkheads just for something to _do_. She'd vented her frustration by shredding an old couch at Liara's place—they'd be finding pieces of spring for ages. But that was hours ago, and she _wasn't fucking okay_ right now.

“They wouldn't stay in a high-traffic area,” Shepard pointed out. “But they dropped the escape pod here. There must have been a reason.”

“Not necessarily,” Rodriguez said quietly. Shepard looked over at her, surprised, and she glanced nervously around before realizing they expected her to continue. “I... I mean... if it was me, I'd arrange a random place to drop the pod, and then have someone with a ship pick me up and get as far away as possible. That way the pickup would be almost impossible to ever track down.”

Shepard looked over as Jack's grip tightened on the edge of her bench. Fuck her perception, anyway. Jack still didn't know how she understood all this emotional crap so well, but it got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

Prangley squeezed the girl's shoulder. “Maybe they're not as smart as you,” he said.

Shepard smiled at Rodriguez. “Wouldn't surprise me.”

One of the batarians nearby cleared his throat. When they all turned to look at him, he said awkwardly, “Uh... could be both.” He glanced around and coughed again. “I mean, we all sort of overheard you guys talking and I know the whole thing happened pretty quickly and all. But pickups like that can take time even if you've got the resources. You want to do the thing without attracting attention you can't signal for anything, and space has got a lot of room for an escape pod to disappear. To have it go smoothly, you'd need to arrange a time and a place.”

They all sort of looked at him for a few seconds.

“Thanks,” said Jack.

Shepard looked like she'd had an idea, though. Her eyes were sharp and focused, which made Jack pay closer attention. “What kind of place are you talking about?” she asked.

The batarian shrugged self-consciously, adjusting his bracer. “I'm not sure exactly where we are,” he admitted, “but we do our bit of smuggling. There's boltholes and caches everywhere, this close to the border between Council space and the Terminus Systems. Most of 'em are claimed and defended, though. Blood Pack controls a lot of the deep-space ones; us and Eclipse run bigger loads through bigger ports, so we usually use ground caches on colony worlds. But any decent smuggler has a general idea where other people's claims are. Get too close and... well. People get, uh, touchy about their claims.”

Shepard nodded slowly. “You'd have to move fast,” she said, like she was working it out in her head. “Especially if you were breaking in on the Blood Pack. I know Aria doesn't exactly stop slavers, but I don't think she usually helps them out either.” She paused. “And if she's started kidnapping my officers, we are.. gonna need to have a talk.”

“Heh.” The batarian grinned. “Nah, Aria keeps to goods. We figure slavery's too messy for her. Too many variables. 'sides, Omega's not a great place for it anyway.”

Even through her mounting frustration, Jack could spare half a smile for that. “No shit,” she said. “That kinda thing might work on Illium. Omega, some asshole tries to buy a slave he better watch his back. They'll just grab a pistol and shoot him and nobody'll give a shit. Nice place. Kinda miss it.”

The batarian gestured to her like see, this chick gets it. “Red sand's cleaner anyway,” he said. “And the profit margins don't even _start_ to compare. Aria's a smart lady. Invest in where the money's at. She pays her raiders, too, let me tell you.”

Shepard shifted her grip on the overhead guide rail, bringing the conversation back on track. “So you think there might be one of these boltholes nearby?”

The batarian shrugged. “Probably. You know where we are? I don't fly this thing.” Shepard brought up their rough location on her Omnitool, and his eyes widened. “Oh, definitely. Yeah. There's one not far from here, actually—tiny little abandoned space station. Within escape-pod range, easy.” He got a fond smile on his face. “We call it Old Rusty. It's a shitty old unclaimed thing, not enough room in the cargo bay for more than a few dozen crates. Nobody wants it, so you get a whole bunch of newcomers to the business who think they're the first ones to find it and stash their goods there.” He chuckled. “Easiest salvage in the galaxy.”

“Shepard,” Jack said urgently.

Shepard held up a hand. “Yeah. I'm on it.” She crossed over to an intercom panel on the wall. “Captain?”

The intercom crackled, and the turian chick's clipped voice answered. “Can we move?”

Shepard rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I think so. Our friend here was just telling us about an unclaimed cache station nearby. Uh... 'Old Rusty'?”

“You're joking.”

Shepard sighed. “It's as good a place to start as any. You're stuck with us anyway, right?”

“Point. ETA five minutes, Commander. Prep your boarding party.”

Jack stood, grabbing the guide rail as the ship hummed to life under their feet. “Amp check, guys.”

Prangley rolled his neck. “Running hot, ma'am.” The others echoed him. Good. No surprises. She was... glad they were here, actually. If it'd just been her and Shepard she'd have thrown a couple of mercs out an airlock by this point. Stupid kids were making her _responsible_.

The batarian cleared his throat again. “So, uh,” he muttered. “Couple of the boys and me might come with you. Been a while since we saw some real action is all. Wouldn't mind seeing you in a fight, either.”

“That's generous,” said Shepard with a straight face. Then she really did smile, and punched him in the arm just hard enough to hurt. “We'd be glad to have you. I don't know what we'll be up against in there.”

There was a buzzing noise, and Shepard looked down in surprise as she answered the call. “Talk to me, Liara. We think we have a lead.”

“Shepard.” Liara's voice was distorted, but they could still hear the urgent note in her voice. “My agent on Illium has been going through the fake ambulance. I'm afraid there was not much there to find.”

Shepard sighed. “Remember when the mercs would just leave datapads full of their plans lying around? And Cerberus putting their logo on anything that stood still long enough? I miss that. Made the job a whole lot easier.”

Jack could hear Liara hesitate on the other end. “I... well, about that. We did find a datapad. There was no useful information on it, only a list of departures from Miranda's dock. The information itself is not why I called you—did you say you had found a lead?”

Shepard glanced at their new batarian friend. “Maybe. We'll let you know. What's going on?”

“Be careful, Shepard,” Liara said insistently. “The information on the datapad was useless, but it was watermarked...”

The ship shuddered as maneuvering thrusters kicked in, and Shepard grabbed their guiderail again. “Spit it out, Liara, we're about to dock.” Liara didn't respond, but after a second an icon flashed on Shepard's Omnitool, and she brought the file up in holo mode.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” muttered Hanson.

Rodriguez balled her fists, a haze of blue starting to swirl around them. “I thought those guys were _dead!_ ”

Bellarmine gripped her shoulder. “They will be soon,” he said darkly.

Jack didn't say anything. She just crossed over to the nearest weapons locker, hung her pistol up, and replaced it with something a lot bigger. Then she walked over to Shepard and closed both their call with Liara and the shimmering Cerberus logo floating over their heads.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“This is so fucked up,” whispered Hanson. “I thought Cerberus was _gone_.”

“Quiet,” Shepard told them in an undertone. “I don't like this. Where is everyone?”

“Cerberus always has shock troops,” Jack agreed. “We shoulda been stopped by now.”

The batarian—damn, Jack really ought to learn that guy's name—grunted. “Might not be here,” he answered in a low voice. “It was just an idea.”

“We'll search the place anyway,” said Shepard. “Just to be sure.” It wasn't like it was a daunting prospect. The station was fucking tiny. Five decks and a cargo bay, but three of the decks were all stuff like life support and shit. Okay, it was a respectable size for something that'd apparently just been abandoned and lost, but it wasn't... you know, _Omega_. There was no way you could hide someone here for long.

They all about had a heart attack when there was a sudden burst of blue and a pile of crates, some mops and a pail went flying like kids' blocks.

“Shit—! _Rodriguez!_ ” Jack hissed.

Rodriguez flinched. “Sorry, ma'am,” she whispered. “I thought I saw something move.”

Prangley hit her shoulder just a little too hard—a comfort and a rebuke in one. “Keep it together,” he told her. “We got this.”

Suddenly Shepard signaled them to shut up, looking up at the ceiling. Jack backed her up. The kids went silent the second she held a hand up; she kinda smirked at that, she wasn't gonna lie. Savior of the galaxy or not, these were still _her_ guys.

Shepard was still staring at the ceiling. Jack was just about to ask what the fuck was so interesting about it when she heard it, too. Subtle, but there. Sounded like a footstep on the deck above theirs.

“Guess that's one good thing about this piece of shit,” she murmured. Shepard glanced back at her. “No sneaking around anymore, assholes.”

“No hiding for us, either,” Prangley pointed out softly.

Jack looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Please.” She grinned at him. “Like we need to.”

Shepard waved them all forward sharply. “Get out of the cargo bay. I'm not in the mood to be vented into space.”

...Yeah, shit, Jack had forgotten that part. Damn. She couldn't _afford_ to start slipping now. Luckily there were no flashing lights or klaxons; they hurried across the cargo bay and sealed the door behind them without any disasters. Wow. This thing had a manual latch. Station belonged in a fucking museum or something.

They looked down the hallway with varying degrees of nervousness.

Their batarian friend cleared his throat. “So, uh,” he said. “It's a trap, right?”

“It has to be,” said Bellarmine.

They stared down the hallway some more. It was dingy and gross and the lights were flickering, but it didn't look like anyone had rigged it with anything. That probably meant there were at least three million bombs.

Finally, Shepard rolled her shoulders. “Well,” she said, “We won't find out by giving them more time to organize. Jack, keep your guys back. Kaharn, your squad's with me.” Oh hey, he did have a name. Cool. Now she wouldn't look like an asshole for asking.

One of the Suns muttered about cannon fodder, but they all moved up to flank Shepard while Jack waved her kids back against the door. Damn teenagers didn't seem much happier about the arrangement, but like hell was she sending them down this thing. She just wished they'd hurry _up_. If Miranda was somewhere here, Shepard was certainly taking her sweet fucking time finding out about it. They couldn't rush, though; Kaharn had some tech genius scanning every fucking inch of the place before they moved, so they could neutralize any threats they came across.

It was kind of anticlimactic when they reached the other side of the hallway ten minutes later and there weren't actually any traps.

Jack's patience was officially gone. “We're wasting time fucking around here, Shepard,” she hissed. “Are we gonna tear this place apart or not?”

One of the batarians looked heartbroken at the thought of hurting Old Rusty, and patted the wall like _there, there._

Luckily, Shepard looked... about half as restless as Jack felt. “All right,” she said, and there was no smile now. “Jack, you guys are on barriers, we'll do the fighting. Let's move.”

The station was a goddamn ghost town.

Three decks down, two to go, and fucking nothing had even moved. Jack was starting to understand Rodriguez's twitchiness earlier. This wasn't how Cerberus operated. For one thing, they hadn't even bothered to slap that ugly-ass logo on everything yet. Why was their symbol a giant 'O' anyway? What the fuck did that have to do with a mythical three-headed dog?

Shepard elbowed her in the ribs.

“Keep it together, Jack,” she muttered.

 _“I've got this_ —”

She very nearly bit Shepard when the Commander clapped a hand over her mouth, except that she'd heard the slight creaking around the corner too. Shepard exchanged a look with Kaharn, who was closest to the bend, and the batarian nodded.

A few seconds later he lunged. There was half a shout, a choking noise that lasted exactly as long as it took to check a uniform; then a crack, and they were all standing over a dead Cerberus agent.

“Not bad, bug-eyes,” Jack admitted.

Shepard knelt next to the man while Kaharn's guys watched their backs. “Look at this,” she murmured. “I know Cerberus indoctrinated everyone, but... this one looks different.”

“I thought all that indoctrination shit ended when you took out the Reapers.”

Shepard frowned. “It should have. I don't think this one was fully indoctrinated yet. He's not, uh...”

“Glowing?” offered Rademaker. She was standing just behind the Suns guarding the corridor they'd just come up, one hand half-open and ready to snap up a barrier if needed. Good kid, Rademaker. Smart.

“Yeah.” Shepard checked the symbol on his sleeve again, and looked satisfied that he really was Cerberus.

“He was getting ready to come around that corner and shoot you,” Kaharn told her. Shepard really did wear her heart on her sleeve. “Trust me. He wasn't a good guy.”

Shepard nodded, but Jack could see real relief on her face. “I believe you. I just think whoever these guys are, they're doing this themselves. That almost makes it worse. Come on. They're running out of places to hide.”

“Commander.” They all looked at Shepard's wrist as the Suns captain patched herself through—yeah, Jack didn't actually care about that one enough to learn her name. “Whatever you're doing, do it quick. Your friends have company.”

“What kind?”

“Looks like a raider of some sort. Their contact, I imagine. Your friends...” She trailed off, and when her voice picked up again it was with a low, vibrating chuckle. Something about turian chuckles just sounded evil. At least when this chick did them. “Oh, _look_. They've hired an Eclipse ship. That's almost cute.”

Kaharn snorted. “Aria won't be happy about that one. She may let us handle our own business, but selling out to Cerberus...”

Shepard was focused on something a little more important. “Nelusa,” she said. Oh. Turian chick had a name too. She still didn't give a shit. “Can you keep them off us for a few more minutes? If Miranda's here, we're getting close.”

The captain gave a sharp, multi-layered laugh. “With _pleasure_. I'll keep them occupied, but any shuttles that dock are your business. Let us know when you're on your way back.”

“Nelusa hates Eclipse,” Kaharn informed Rodriguez. “Says they're all elitist about biotics. Can't get any respect for a good old-fashioned fighter. No offense.”

“None taken,” she said nervously. “Shouldn't we go?”

“Move,” Shepard agreed. “Let's find her and get out.”

* * *

 

If anyone ever said Jack cried when they found Miranda, she was going to fucking murder them.

It would have fit if the little Cerberus cell had kept her locked up in the last room on the station—if you're gonna do the damsel in distress thing, might as well go all the way, right? Turned out Cerberus didn't do fairy tales. Like Jack needed to be told that.

They found her when they were picking their way down the main corridor of the fourth deck—the one with a few bunks, some really, _really_ awful bathrooms, and a medical bay that looked like something out of a horror movie or Jack's treasured childhood memories. Naturally. The creeps would feel right at home there.

They might have walked right by if the idiots hadn't been whispering to each other. Ironically, it was the hissed “Shut up!” that caught their attention.

The kids were smart. They froze dead the second they heard a human voice; hands came up all around, but nobody so much as flared their biotics for fear of giving themselves away. Kaharn's boys did the same; she saw several of them check their weapons, but they did it silently. No clicking or fiddling. That left her and Shepard to press against the wall and flank the door.

“He's been gone too long,” one of the assholes was saying. “I'm telling you, someone's down there. I knew we should have sprung on surveillance cameras!”

“So what if they are?” came the answer. This one sounded more angry than anything; he was keeping his voice down better, but practically spitting the words at his buddy. “Nobody uses this place except third-rate smugglers. And they'd have noticed if we put a bunch of cameras everywhere. Calm down.”

“Didn't you hear T'Solas? _There's a Blue Suns raider hovering outside!”_

There was a muted sound, like someone being hit in the gut. Jack couldn't have cared less if someone paid her.

“So they ditched some red sand or something. Who cares? Let her deal with it. This?” Another dull thud. “This is more than enough reason not to care what the hell the Blue Suns do. They're mercenaries. In a few weeks they'll be working for _us_. And they've got no reason to come up here anyway. So keep your mouth shut and let Eclipse deal with the squatters.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“See? That simple. And... shit, hand me that. She's some kind of superhuman or something. We're increasing the dosage, I don't care what the egghead said. We don't need her for long anyway.”

The look in Jack's eyes when she caught Shepard's was anger. That's it. She wasn't fucking scared, okay?

Shepard was doing that thing where her face went all cold and furious.

“Get 'em,” she said, and Jack _finally_ got to tear something to shreds.

With how much energy she had pent up from the last few hours, it was really fucking disappointing how fast it went. Jack didn't bother with the door; the walls in this place were just a single layer of steel. She just ripped a big chunk out and flung it over the Suns' heads, and then slammed the guys inside against the opposite wall with all the built-up fury and hatred and—yeah, okay, and fear, shut up—that she'd been carrying around ever since she realized Miranda hadn't called all day. Bastards never had a chance. Didn't even get a chance to draw weapons; she just threw them through the opening and let inertia do the rest.

One of them—she didn't know or care if it was Nervous Asshole or Angry Asshole—didn't look at stunned as the other one. He tried to reach for the gun at his hip, so Kaharn let off a few dozen warning shots into his chest. Jack decided she liked that guy.

Shepard squatted down in front of the other one like she was gonna talk to him; Jack might've been worried except that Prangley was already next to her with a barrier between her and the Cerberus guy, and they were surrounded by armed mercs who _really_ wanted to shoot something already. Anyway, that wasn't why she was here.

For a second she thought they'd made a mistake. She'd been expecting... she wasn't sure, probably one of those medical tables with the straps and shit. That would've haunted her for the rest of her life; Miranda Lawson just... she just wasn't the kind of person who should ever have to be that fucking scared and helpless. But this was just a random creepy bunk with weird, old stains on the floor. Well, that one wasn't weird, that one was just blood. Fun.

The point was, Jack didn't even see her until she noticed that there was a suitcase or something shoved between two of the creaky bunks that didn't look dirty enough to have been here for long. It was one of those civilian collapsible things, the ones with a series of zippers all around the middle at different heights so you could either carry it in one hand or fit, like, three dead bodies in it if you expanded it all the way. She'd knocked it over when she ripped the wall off.

She tried really hard not to think about _dead bodies_ when she noticed how fucking still Miranda was, stuffed inside the thing and padded with clothes—probably to disguise the shape so nobody on the ship noticed anything weird. Her eyes weren't open, and she was drooling a bit, and, shit, if she was breathing it was just barely.

“Hey,” Jack said. She was almost scared to do it, but she pressed her fingers to Miranda's throat to check her pulse. It was weak, but there. Definitely there. She tried to pretend it didn't make her want to collapse with relief. “Yeah,” she said, and shook Miranda's shoulder the way she knew she hated to be woken up. “You're fine. Come on, princess, beauty's sleep's over... Hey. Come on, seriously, you're freaking me out. _Miranda!_ ”

Apparently that last part was louder than Jack meant for it to be, because Shepard was next to them right away. Jack moved out of the way, clenching her fingers in the side of the suitcase to stop them from shaking.

“What's wrong with her?” she asked, and hated how small her voice was. She sounded like a little girl.

Shepard checked Miranda's pulse too, except she did it at her wrist. Which... oh. Jack had missed the IV. The bag was hung up on the frame of the bunk, but it was tucked out of the way. She'd been a little distracted, all right?

“Sedated,” Shepard said gently. “We'll get her back to the Suns' medic. Here.” Jack winced as Shepard carefully worked on the catheter. She didn't like IVs, okay? They were fucking awful. “There—ow. Sorry, Miranda,” she said, smearing medigel over the area. There wasn't much damage, but she looked way too vulnerable for this. “You take care of her. I'm gonna have a chat with our friend here.”

Jack had a heat sink with that bastard's name on it, but she also had a job to do. She'd let Shepard handle the questioning. What kind of asshole would leave their girl unconscious and stuffed in a suitcase with a bunch of random guys' pants? Miranda'd be terrified if she woke up alone like that. Not that she'd ever admit it. God forbid Miss Perfect be anything other than on top of the situation.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she muttered, brushing a chunk of hair away from Miranda's face. “Don't fucking do that again.” There wasn't much she could do, really; basically just support Miranda's head and keep an eye on her heartbeat and breathing and stuff.

“We needed resources,” the guy talking to Shepard was saying. Oh, look. Nervous Asshole was still alive. For now. “Cerberus resources. Not just funding. I mean, we needed that too, we could barely afford to hire the Eclipse ship, but—I thought we were doing it for a ransom or something at first, I thought Loy was crazy because there's tons of other people it'd be a lot easier to kidnap—”

One of the Suns guys kicked him. “Spit it out,” he growled.

“We were new recruits,” the guy babbled. “We know the indoctrination project went bad but we'd just joined near the end of the war. The process took time, and the Illusive Man needed us to be able to blend in for our job, so our cell was gonna be left for last anyway.”

“What project?” Shepard demanded.

Nervous Asshole glanced over at Miranda. Jack spit at him. He was, you know, all the way across the hall, so it didn't do much. Made her feel better, though.

“What...” Shepard looked between them. “ _Miranda?_ ”

“The Illusive Man wanted her back,” Nervous Asshole said nervously. “He said she knew too much but she was too valuable to waste. And there was some other guy involved who had a plan for how to do it, at first, but we stopped hearing from him after a while. So we had to improvise the rest.”

“Yeah, that'd be because he got thrown out a window.” Shepard pinned the guy to the wall by his collar, and he yelped. Fucking pathetic. “So why bother now? Cerberus is finished. The war is over. It's _done_.”

“It's not done!” he insisted. “There were projects that could have made humanity the strongest force in the galaxy that are just going to wither away now, we know there were! We needed to reconnect the Cerberus network—information, resources, secret stockpiles, all of that. Our Operator died, but he was useless anyway. He only knew about _our_ objective. Everyone knows Lawson was different. With all the time she spent curled up in the Illusive Man's lap...”

“Like she'd tell you _shit_ ,” Jack snapped. “Idiot.”

“She would have,” he said, and there was something sick and dark about his certainty. “Eventually.”

Shepard looked at him for a long moment. “Your call, Jack.”

Jack shifted so Miranda's head was propped up against her shoulder, and was careful not to jostle her while she shot the son of a bitch in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update because I did nothing productive this weekend!


	6. Chapter 6

Jack wasn't sure if it was the gunshot that woke Miranda up or just the fact that they weren't pouring sedatives into her anymore.

Well, 'woke up' was a bit of a stretch. It was a tiny thing that caught Jack's attention at first; Miranda's breathing stuttered, just a little. Her first thought was panic that they'd screwed up something important, but then Miranda gave this pained whimpering sound and Jack realized no, she was probably just coming up for air.

She put an arm around Miranda's waist, trying to keep her from falling over if she shifted. Then she jabbed her hard in the side. What? There was a fucking space battle going on outside, they needed to move. “Hey,” she said. “Let's go. Come on. Naptime's over, princess.”

Miranda's eyes opened slowly, and she turned away and cringed at the dim, flickering lights.

“Jack..?” she muttered. She stared blearily at her knees until her eyes mostly focused. Looked like she really wanted to know why she was in a suitcase but wasn't sure how to get her brain working enough to ask about it.

Jack tried to hide her massive grin. She just... _fuck_ , it was good to hear that obnoxious fucking accent again.

“Long story short, you got kidnapped by Cerberus so we're busting your ass out. I think that's irony or some shit.”

Miranda made another weak humming noise, although this one sounded more like 'I see' than 'I'm scared'. So that was an improvement.

“Look out!” Prangley shouted suddenly, shoving one of the Blue Suns guys—wait, actually, Jack thought that one was a chick—out of the way and throwing up a barrier just in time to block a burst of gunfire from down the hall. The Suns responded in kind, but they had definitely announced their presence.

“All right, we're out of time,” Shepard determined. “Miranda, can you walk?”

“'Course she can,” Jack said roughly. “Fucking cheerleader could run a marathon in her sleep to hear her talk.”

In reality Jack wasn't so sure about Miranda being able to _move_ , forget walking, but they didn't have much of a choice. She tried to help her to her feet slowly—half of her was straining toward her kids, but they were old hats at this now, she had to let them handle themselves. And the half that wanted to snarl and crouch in front of Miranda and tear any fucker who tried to touch her again into tiny pieces was stronger. For now.

(And there was another part, dark and vicious and humming with the distant memory of blood and pain and a rush of narcotics. It wasn't her. She forced it down with her _real_ memories—the Normandy and her kids and Kahlee and Eezo and, yeah, Miranda too. Clean ones, ones that meant something. She wasn't Cerberus' attack dog. Not any more. Never again.)

Miranda shook so badly she was nearly vibrating as they pulled her mostly upright—Shepard on one side, Jack on the other supporting most of her weight.

“Shit, cheerleader,” she muttered. “What'd you have for breakfast, fucking _rocks?_ ” She heard Shepard give an exasperated sigh, but she didn't need a lecture about tact right now. Normally a comment like that would have at least earned her a glare or a laugh or an eye-roll or something. This time Miranda just stumbled over her own feet and whispered something that sounded like a slurred _sorry_.

“Jack,” Shepard said quietly. “Have you got her?”

“Yeah.” Jack adjusted her grip a little to get a better hold of Miranda—holding her up by the arm and steering with a hand around her waist. She was... vaguely upright. From the way she was swaying Jack figured she could either see straight or support some of her own weight, but both was just not gonna happen. “C'mon, let's get out of here.”

Shepard paused just long enough to nab the IV bag. Smart move, Jack thought—they didn't know what the fuck was in that stuff, the Suns medic would probably want to see it.

“Commander!” Prangley called. “We can't hold here much longer, we're too exposed!”

Shepard nodded to him and stepped out into the kids' barrier. The hallway was littered with mech parts, but there was a group of humans and a couple asari coming from one end.

“Jack,” she said. “Ready?”

Jack gave a sharp whistle. “Let's get the hell out of here, guys! Hanson and Rademaker in front, everyone else hold those assholes off.” Her biotics flared instinctively, but her hands were a little busy with a drugged-out ex-Cerberus operative. It looked like this was gonna be a good fight, too. _Damn it_.

“The things I do for you, cheerleader,” she growled, and Shepard gave the order to move out.

* * *

 

It _was_ a good fight, for a little while. Not as good as tearing through Cerberus, but with Eclipse's color scheme it felt pretty damn similar. Then Shepard had to fucking ruin it by getting herself recognized, so of course a bunch of the mercs suddenly realized this job probably wasn't what they'd been told it was, and they decided to _surrender_. Called their boss and everything, talking about how something was fishy here and the guys who were paying them to do it were dead anyway.

“You were working for Cerberus,” Shepard told them bluntly. “Those men who hired you kidnapped my former XO. They wanted to restart the organization.”

“Goddess.” One of the mercs blanched. “Commander Shepard, we had no idea—we knew they were transporting a prisoner but we assumed it was a bounty.”

Jack really wasn't in the mood to give a shit about this bitch's _feelings_.

“I still say we tear 'em apart,” she snarled. “I'm not buying that they didn't know.”

“Their captain might have,” Shepard said. “I'm not sure about these guys. Nelusa,” she added. “Did the Eclipse ship stand down?”

“Reluctantly,” the turian hummed. “They're lucky I'm under contract with a peacemaker.” It wasn't quite said like an insult, but that was probably just because it was Shepard she was talking about. Honestly. The fucking sappy hero-worship thing the whole galaxy had was just _gross_.

Yeah, yeah, she had it just as bad. At least she'd met Shepard before.

“You'll live,” Shepard told the Suns captain, fighting back a smile. “If it makes you feel better, you should tell Aria to look into this T'Solas. Jack's right; something doesn't match up.”

The turian crooned. This chick was off her rocker. “I think I will, at that.”

“Look,” the asari stammered. “We'll just... let you go. I'm sorry about this. Is there anything you need?”

“You blew up our shuttle,” Kaharn reminded her.

“You _shot_ me!” added Bellarmine. Rademaker rolled her eyes as she applied medigel to his injured leg.

“Baby,” she told him.

Rodriguez spread her hands with an angelic smile. “Should've watched your barriers,” she said happily. Jack snorted.

“We can give you a lift,” the Eclipse chick said immediately, looking relieved that there was something immediate and practical she could do to make the Savior of the Galaxy stop looking at her like a disappointed parent.

And that was how their dramatic rescue ended with everyone shaking hands and complimenting each other's combat skills. One of these days Jack was going to fucking _strangle_ Shepard.

You know, one of these days that wasn't this one, when she wasn't still keeping a woozy Miranda from keeling over. The adrenaline from being, oh, _under fire_ had helped a lot; she was pretty much standing on her own now and her hands didn't shake when Shepard helped her to her feet as they got off the Eclipse shuttle. But she could barely put one foot in front of the other, and mostly just nodded when anyone talked to her.

“You feeling all right, Reiley?” Shepard asked, clapping Bellarmine on the shoulder.

“He's fine,” Rademaker grinned. “He'll be bragging about being the only one to get hurt on this mission for weeks.”

Bellarmine shrugged, looking none the worse for wear. “She's got me, Commander,” he admitted.

“I'll yell at you about your goddamn barriers later,” Jack told him. “Hey. Ugly. You guys got a medic?”

“Jack,” Shepard said warningly. “Play nice.”

Kaharn just shook his head and laughed. “Go upstairs, first door on the right. Maybe they can give you an attitude transplant while you're at it.” She flipped him off and Shepard shook her head. Some people just had no respect for good old-fashioned shit-talk.

The stairs were a challenge; they made it up, like, three before Jack decided fuck that. Her grip shifted just enough to give Miranda a few seconds of warning before she picked her up with a flare of biotics and edged carefully up the stairs. That kind of thing sounded romantic in vids, but it mostly consisted of trying not to bang her head on any pipes.

“Ow,” Miranda mumbled.

Emphasis on _trying_.

She managed to get to the top without giving Miranda a concussion, and set her back on her feet just a little awkwardly.

“Thanks,” she whispered. At least that's what it sounded like she was about to say before her ankle turned under her and Jack had to grab her again to stop her from collapsing.

Shepard jogged up the stairs right as a batarian doctor came to meet them from the medbay. At least, Jack assumed he was a doctor. He wasn't wearing armor and he had a Suns logo embroidered on his jacket.

“Is she injured?” he asked immediately, crossing to Miranda's other side and helping Jack guide her into the medical bay. She tried not to stiffen. This place was perfect compared to the hellhole they'd just left—clean and sterile and warm. Jack just... didn't like hospitals.

“Sedated,” Shepard told him while they got Miranda sitting on a hospital bed. “Really heavily. We're not sure what they gave her, but this is it.”

The batarian took the bag gratefully. “I'll look into it. For now, I'd like to just keep her under observation. I'll give her some human apple juice if she can keep it down. She needs to get some fluids and sugar in her system.”

Shepard blinked. “You have apple juice?”

He shrugged. “It works. I could give her the turian stuff, but I doubt that'd help.”

“I'm fine,” Miranda rasped. It came out half a whimper and half a sigh.

Jack shot her a look. “Like hell you are.”

“Really,” she whispered. “I just need a moment to...”

Shepard cleared her throat. “To cooperate with the doctors and drink your juice?”

For a second Miranda actually looked like she was going to argue, but then she swayed a bit and Jack had to catch her _again_ to stop her from falling backwards.

“Yes, all right,” she sighed. “I'll behave.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” Jack said drily. Miranda did something that was probably supposed to be hitting her, but it was so weak she could barely feel it. “Okay, that was pathetic. C'mon. Take a nap, cheerleader.”

Miranda didn't have the energy to argue. Jack fought the urge to break something, and had to settle for moving off the bed to make room. She sat on a bedside table instead, fiddling with a datapad someone had left there. Not being able to bicker with Miranda just felt _wrong_.

Shepard came back an hour or so later, when Miranda'd fallen asleep—at least the batarian doctor assured Jack she was just resting, and that it was a good thing because it gave her perfect fucking genetics a chance to flush the sedatives out of her system. At least this time it was mostly natural sleep. She was breathing normally and everything. Didn't mean Jack was gonna leave, though. She was staying right where she was until she knew this was gonna end well.

“How're you doing?” Shepard asked quietly.

Jack focused on forming a dick out of numbers on her borrowed datapad. Easier than making eye contact. “Four-eyes says she'll probably only be out for a little while. He checked Bellarmine's leg, right?”

“Yeah, he's fine.” Shepard leaned against the empty desk. “They're worried about Miranda, but they're having a great time down there. Kaharn's guys are teaching them Skyllian-Five. I hope they haven't got much money to lose.”

Jack couldn't fight back an unexpected smile. “It'll teach 'em a lesson.” She glanced over as Miranda shifted, and the smile vanished. “Hey, listen,” she said hesitantly. “Thanks. For helping her. I never would've... I mean, without you guys, she'd have been _gone_.”

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, those big soft eyes serious as she looked at Miranda. “Yeah. We care about her too.” Jack nodded stiffly.

Miranda stirred for real this time, and they both looked over as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Jack couldn't help being relieved; she looked a hell of a lot better already. Still weak and exhausted, but not half-dead.

“Hey, Miranda,” Shepard said gently. “Feeling all right?”

Miranda took a deep breath, and that sounded better than before too. “Marginally.” Oh, great. She was talking again. Still barely above a whisper, but she was managing more than one syllable at a time without gasping for air now. “Thank you, Commander.”

Shepard nodded and looked back at Jack. “I should go. You keep an eye on her, all right? I'll tell the others you're awake, Miranda. They've been worried.”

Miranda winced a little at the light as she let herself relax back to the bed. Jack considered blasting it, then decided the noise would probably just bother her more.

“The others?” Miranda asked. Her voice sounded like fucking sandpaper. Jack handed her a packet of juice.

“Yeah,” she said, turning on her nightstand so she could prop her feet up on the bed. “The kids wanted to help. They kicked ass, too. Think you were too busy being high as a kite to notice that part. And Shepard made friends with some batarian.”

That got a fragile smile. “Of course she did.” Then her eyes clouded. “Jack... what...?”

Jack couldn't keep eye contact. “Cerberus,” she said, tugging at her ponytail and looking everywhere in the room but at Miranda. “Sounded like they were working from some old plan of your dad's. Mr. Illusive wasn't happy about you running around doing your spy shit, so he formed a cell to get you back, or something.”

Miranda's eyebrows went up a little at that. “An entire cell just to capture me?” she murmured. “I'm almost flattered.” She fumbled at the corner of her little plastic bag-o-juice but didn't have the strength to actually tear a hole in it. Jack took pity on her and opened the thing.

Miranda's eyes tightened but she didn't say anything; just pushed herself shakily onto one elbow so she could drink her juice. “Is Oriana all right?”

“Yeah.” That had been the first thing Liara checked. “And she's got like seventeen Shadow Broker agents watching her. Kid'll be fine, you're the one they wanted.”

Miranda nodded slowly. Jack couldn't tell if that was because she was thinking or if she just had to be really careful about sudden movements at the moment. “They're dead,” she said quietly.

Jack suddenly felt self-conscious. “Well... yeah. They were Cerberus.”

Miranda gave another, smaller nod and lay back again. “Good,” she said, closing her eyes. “I wanted to be sure.” She swallowed and looked up at her again. She looked scared. Or... maybe not scared, maybe more timid, if that wasn't ridiculous because she was Miranda Lawson.

“Jack...” She hesitated. “I'm sorry.”

Jack scowled and sat forward, taking her boots off the bed and leaving dirty footprints behind. Oops. “Don't you dare,” she growled. Miranda cringed, and she hastily lowered her voice. Didn't want to scare her, after all. That didn't mean she couldn't still insist, “This was those Cerberus assholes' fault!”

Miranda shook her head weakly. That was kind of worrying; she'd looked a lot better a few minutes ago. But then she'd probably used most of her energy talking to Shepard.

“I know,” she forced out. “That's not what I...” She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Pragia. I never apologized.”

Well that was... unexpected. Jack scuffed her toe along the tiled floor. “Yeah. Well. Wasn't like you ran the fucking thing.”

Miranda took a long, deep breath and let it out in a sigh. When she spoke again it was just barely more than a whisper; weaker, but more controlled. “I didn't... want to believe it,” she said softly. “That Cerberus could do that. That they _would_. When I found the records the Illusive Man told me he hadn't known the nature of the experiments, and I... wanted to believe. So I did. But he never... he would have known,” she said finally, letting it out in a tired rush. “He had to have known. The truth. I don't know what they were hiding from him—embezzling funds, or... but he personally oversaw every active Cerberus project. He knew perfectly well what the Teltin facility was, and he let them do it. And I should have realized it sooner. Even if he hadn't known, Cerberus would still have been responsible. I'm sorry I tried to defend it.”

...What the fuck was she supposed to say to that?

She'd stopped blaming Miranda for her stupid rose-colored goggles ages ago—around when she woke up and told Cerberus to go fuck itself. She hadn't figured _Miranda_ of all people would still be carrying around the guilt of some old stupid argument from before the Reapers even showed up. That was... really sweet, actually. Shit. Jack could count on one hand the number of people who actually felt guilty about something they said to hurt her in the middle of an argument two years ago while she threatened to flay them alive. One finger, actually. Yeah, so it was literally just Miranda.

“Damn,” she said finally. “They gave you the good drugs, huh?”

Luckily, she got the reaction she'd been hoping for. A little of the tortured look left Miranda's face as she gave that little breathy laugh.

“Bitch,” she whispered as she fell back against the pillow with a faint smile.

“Priss.”

“Loose cannon.”

“Stuck-up ice queen Frankenstein.” Jack shoved her shoulder lightly. “Cerberus fucked with our heads. Don't beat yourself up over it. I already did that.”

“Liar.” There was a brief spark in her eyes that made Jack feel all light and warm and shit. She didn't do romance, okay? It felt good.

“Whatever, cheerleader. Keep telling yourself that. Scoreboard said I won.” She stood up and nudged her out of the way, kicking off her boots. “Move over.”

Miranda looked surprised, but pleased. She shifted to the side just enough for Jack to slip in next to her, and curled gratefully into her shoulder. Jack thought at first the cheerleader was gonna talk some more about _feelings_ , but apparently she didn't have the energy. Fine by her.

Shepard came back to check on them about half an hour later. Jack didn't notice. She was asleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“...and did you see that one asari Hanson got from the side?” Bellarmine wiggled his arms in what was probably supposed to be an imitation of a floating asari. “Talk about bragging rights, you caught an asari commando with her pants down. I meant, like, metaphorically taking a piss, ma'am,” he added, glancing at Jack.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but decided to take his word for it. Hey, she did have _some_ morals to pass along to these guys, all right? Some things just weren't fucking funny. But as long as they kept the gloating to combat skills, it was all good. She wasn't Shepard. Be a bit hypocritical if she started lecturing her kids about staying professional and shit.

She leaned over and snagged a bottle of whatever weird asari soda thing they were sharing, and gave herself a few seconds to reflect ruefully that she never should've promised Kahlee she'd set a normal human example of healthy alcohol consumption. Whatever. If it kept the kids from doing something stupid, she'd put up with it. “Meanwhile,” she drawled as she popped the cap, “ _Someone_ was forgetting his barriers. _Bellarmine_.”

Rodriguez gave an evil laugh and shoved Bellarmine's shoulder with her bare foot. Apparently it was too much trouble to actually get up from her end of the couch. 'Course, Jack wasn't bothering to sit up to grab her refills, either. She'd laid claim to this awkward double-wide armchair-couch thing. Shepard said it was called a _loveseat_ , which was kind of ridiculous. It was comfortable, though, so Jack didn't feel the need to move.

“You're getting sloppy,” said Prangley. He was grinning, but there was just enough seriousness in his voice that Bellarmine's answering smile was apologetic. Kid was gonna be a hell of an officer one day. Once Jack'd whipped him into shape, of course.

“We did it, though,” said Hanson from the squishy armchair. He poured himself a soda shot—her kids at least had a good sense of humor about their crazy officer's Prohibition tendencies. Rademaker wordlessly held up her empty champagne flute from where she was lounging on a pile of cushions at his feet, and he topped her up as well. “I bet we don't hear from Cerberus again.”

Jack still had to force back a flare of fear and hatred just at hearing the name; she didn't think she'd ever be able to get rid of that completely. But it was different this time. Seeing her kids cheerful and safe, flopped on stupidly comfortable squishy furniture around a coffee table overflowing with celebratory junk food, messing with each other like there'd never even been a war... Cerberus didn't seem so powerful now. Less a nebulous, omnipotent force of evil and more a bunch of insecure assholes with more money than sense.

Shepard'd probably call that _healing_. Jack called it emptying a heat sink into anyone stupid enough to try to restart the damn thing. She figured those were basically the same.

“Don't jinx it, Hanson,” she said, but there was no heat behind it. “But if that's the best they can do now, I think we're good.”

“It was almost embarrassing,” said Prangley. He was sitting cross-legged on the ottoman from Hanson's armchair, because Hanson had pushed him out of it and he was too good-natured a kid to bother pushing him back. Eh. There'd be plenty of time to hammer some assertiveness into him. “I mean, I remember Cerberus from the Academy, and those guys were just...”

“Idiots,” Jack supplied, tossing back the rest of her soda. Shepard so owed her a real drink later. Or several. “Broke, pathetic idiots. You did good, guys.”

Rodriguez curled up happily in her corner of the couch. “They sure weren't husks, ma'am.”

Jack laughed. “Miss tearing Brutes apart, Rodriguez? I knew I liked you for a reason.” She blushed, but the shy grin was real. Jack shook her head. Her students were all right. “All you guys are crazy.”

“Says you, ma'am!” protested Prangley.

“Yeah, you especially. You're lucky Kahlee says I'm not allowed to make you guys run laps around the house. Apparently you're on _vacation_.” There'd also been some stuff about 'reckless endangerment' and 'impulsive risk-taking' and 'I turn my back on you for five minutes' but Jack wasn't stupid. Kahlee was proud of them, she just worried. Especially since Anderson.

“I'll drink to that,” said Bellarmine, to general agreement. “To never having to see another Banshee, ever again, for any reason?”

“I don't think I'll have a chance to learn that many new swear words at once again,” Rodriguez added, joining the toast.

“Shut up,” said Jack. “There were like a million of the fucking things.”

“If the Harvesters weren't evil, they'd have been kind of cool,” sighed Bellarmine.

Radmaker snorted. “Respectfully disagreeing there,” she said drily, waving her missing arm at him. Bellarmine blanched, but looked reassured by the fact that she was smirking. Meanwhile Eezo, who had been curled up happily against her side, got distracted by the movement and leapt up to lick her.

“Yeah,” said Hanson, “But if they weren't Reapers, we could've gotten you a _literal dragon_.”

“Better than those cat magnets you got me for my birthday,” said Rademaker, laughing as she tried to push Eezo off her. “But I'm still totally cool with the 'no more husks' thing.”

Prangley lifted a wine glass of soda. “Hear, hear.”

Jack whistled. “Eezo! C'mere. You want a cookie? Stop licking Rademaker's stump.” Apparently the asari had the same kind of generic old-lady cookies lying around that humans had, but after yesterday nobody in this house gave a shit about a healthy diet.

“See, that just sounds dirty,” said Hanson, ignoring Rademaker when she smacked his legs. “I don't know how, but it does.”

“You suck.”

“...Nah,” he decided. “Too easy. I'm not even gonna say it.”

Rodriguez threw an old-lady cookie at them. “Get a room!”

=

Miranda's lips twitched as the Grissom Academy kids fell over themselves laughing. Jack didn't move to stop them, but as the little gathering devolved into a brief war of cookie-throwing Miranda did notice her fingers twitch and a shimmering shield bloom over the coffee table. She was sure Shepard would appreciate the lack of broken glass and soda stains in her carpet.

She had to admit, Jack looked... good. It was the reason she was keeping to herself in the kitchen, watching them from enough of a distance that it wasn't awkward. She looked like she belonged here; irreverent and cocky, more ink and surgical scars than bare skin, but surrounded by laughing teenagers who looked up to her the way some people looked up to Shepard. Miranda wasn't blind, she knew undying loyalty when she saw it.

She gave a soft, mirthless laugh. Jack played off her students like she'd _raised_ them. There were days when Miranda still struggled to get through a normal conversation with her own sister without at least three classified dossiers open.

She about jumped out of her skin when cool fingers brushed the inside of her elbow.

“Miranda,” Liara said softly by way of greeting. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, it's fine. I'm... still a little jumpy.”

“Of course you are. I can't imagine.” She hesitated. “I don't suppose...”

“I'm sorry, Liara,” she sighed. “I still can't think how they did it. I'm ashamed to say it was probably exactly as simple as it seems.” She'd been kicking herself for it since she woke up on the Suns raider. She hadn't noticed anything unusual about the paramedics rushing past her until there was already a needle in her neck; her abductors must have had better acting skills than black-ops abilities. It frustrated her to no end. She should have seen it coming. She should have been _better_ than that.

Liara shook her head. “Complicated plans go wrong more easily.” A mischievous smirk crossed her face. “Surely you've learned that lesson by now.”

“Ha, ha. I'll remind you that my project went perfectly.”

“The facility was _destroyed_.”

“Details,” Miranda said lightly.

Liara sighed. “How are you, really?” she asked. “We worry.”

Miranda respected Liara enough to take a moment and think about her answer. “Better, now that I've had a chance to sleep,” she decided. They'd finally landed back at the T'Soni estate... either very late last night or very early this morning, whatever 0300 hours counted as. The few hours' worth of rest she'd managed en route had helped to take the edge off, but it was nothing to having a soft, dark, quiet bed to get an actual solid eight hours of real sleep. She'd accepted Liara's offer of soup on arrival solely because her hunger had been distracting her enough that it was likely to keep her awake. It was the first time she'd truly understood Jack's passionate love affair with sleep.

...And fine, yes, having Jack as a warm, solid presence next to her when she was still feeling sick and exhausted had been the most wonderful thing she'd ever imagined. That didn't mean she had to admit it. God forbid. Jack was insufferable enough as it was.

Liara side-eyed her sternly. “That _wasn't_ what I meant. But fine.” She leaned against the counter next to Miranda. “I am still attempting to track down some loose ends. In a few days, I hope I will be able to give you some information on those men's resources off the Citadel. Their contact in C-Sec has... had an accident.” She pouted. “I _can_ still do that much.”

Miranda fought back a smile as Liara's hands drifted to her belly. “You're not fooling anyone,” she said smugly. “You've practically been glowing since you announced the pregnancy. Even Jack's noticed.”

Liara glared at her. “Jack can be irritatingly perceptive when it suits her. You could stand to keep her marginally under control.”

Miranda snorted. “Keep _Jack_ under control? I'm a genetic triumph, not a bloody miracle worker.”

Liara sighed again. “If you need anything,” she said, “Please attempt to knock before you come in.” At Miranda's confusion, she nodded toward Jack. “Your mate is probably still traumatized. I would be more sympathetic if we hadn't locked the door. I think it may have been a mistake to introduce her to Kasumi.”

Miranda cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact at all costs as Liara pushed away from the counter and went off to, presumably, find Shepard.

Several seconds after she left, it dawned on Miranda what she'd said.

“Wait, my _what?_ ”

=

“Ow,” said Bellarmine, rubbing his skull. “You guys suck.”

“Nah,” said Hanson. “You're just shit at ducking.”

Jack exchanged a look with Eezo. “These guys are hopeless,” she told him. He lolled his tongue out happily. Rodriguez, who'd somehow ended up in Hanson's chair, reached down and rubbed her knuckles between his eyes.

“Hanson started it,” she insisted.

Jack rolled her eyes. “You're cleaning up all those cookies and shit,” she warned them.

Prangley coughed. “Uh, I think Eezo's already on that, ma'am.”

“Damn it, Eezo,” Jack told the varren. He panted at her and went back to munching the dropped cookies. “I'm over here trying to teach these kids some goddamn responsibility and you're doing their chores for 'em? Not okay.”

Prangley laughed. “Thanks, buddy.”

Eezo wiggled happily and Jack threw up another barrier before his tail could swipe half the glasses off the table. She shook her head and sat back against the cushions. A girl could get used to this.

“At least you had enough sense to keep the biotics to yourselves,” she smirked. “Otherwise we'd have to get Liara a new house.”

Bellarmine fished half a cookie out from under his ass and threw it halfheartedly at Rademaker. “'Course, some of us just haven't got that much power....”

“Lick my stump, Bellarmine.”

“See?” Hanson said. “What'd I tell you? That just sounds wrong.”

Shaking her head at their antics, Jack happened to glance over and spot Miranda where she'd been for almost an hour, leaning quietly on the kitchen counter watching their little dysfunctional family do its thing.

“Hey, Miranda,” she called. “You gonna join us or what?”

Miranda blinked, looking surprised at the invitation. Jack didn't quite get that; it wasn't like they were some exclusive country club or some shit. They were just her kids. Miranda'd been planning to come for the reunion anyway.

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” she said. Jack was about to ask her what the hell was going on in her head, but then she did that little nervous thing where she looked away and scratched at her collarbone. It was kinda cute, except she only did it when she was in a situation she didn't know how to handle. Well, all right. Jack'd just give her a situation she knew inside and out.

She offered Miranda her best shit-eating grin and propped herself up on her elbows. “What's the point of having an ass like that if you're gonna keep it all the way over there, cheerleader?”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but pushed herself off the counter so she could come around and join them. Yup. One-upping the crazy ex-con was a game Miranda could never resist playing. Worked every time she needed to quit worrying and let herself fucking breathe for once.

“Pig,” she said affectionately.

“You love it.”

Prangley made gagging noises. Jack glanced at him and snapped her fingers, and Eezo hit him with a biotic blast that send him tumbling off his ottoman. Then the big softie ran around to the other side to make sure he was okay. Miranda snorted.

“I can see you're setting as shining an example of good behavior as always,” she said, scanning their setup for a place to sit. Bellarmine moved over politely to offer her a place on the sofa between him and Hanson; Jack was having none of it. She hooked the fingers of one hand through the back of Miranda's belt, put the other arm around her waist, and tugged her down into her lap as she walked by.

Her surprised squeak was totally worth the accidental elbow to the solar plexus.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Miranda said, sounding like the least sorry person in history. “Serves you right.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack wasn't worried. If the cheerleader wanted her to stop, all she had to do was say so and she knew it. She wasn't a sicko, she knew when to let up. Miranda just needed a little normality right now, okay? Everyone treating her like some broken bird wasn't gonna help. She pulled one of the back cushions off so she could move over a little more and tuck her sort-of-girlfriend between her and the food instead of right on top of her gut. Miranda was gorgeous and all, but she was _heavy_.

Prangley picked himself up and poured the lady a drink with one hand while trying to fend Eezo off with the other. Miranda accepted it gracefully.

“Glad to see you're doing better, ma'am,” he said genuinely. “Sorry we couldn't get there sooner.”

Miranda smiled at him over the rim of her soda glass. “I'm lucky you were there at all. None of you had to put yourself in danger for me. I'm... extremely grateful. To all of you.”

Rademaker leaned over and fistbumped her shoe, which was the only bit she could reach without moving. “Our pleasure, ma'am.”

Jack held Miranda a little closer and got a happy sigh in return—nothing the kids would probably notice, just for them. “Hey,” she said. “Any asshole thinks they can mess with my girl, they're fucking wrong, aren't they?”

That got her a surprised look over the shoulder, although Miranda hid it quickly behind a quirked eyebrow. “Oh, I'm yours now, am I?”

The question made Jack squirm a little, but she shrugged as carelessly as she could manage. “What,” she said, pretending it wasn't an actual question. “You denying it?”

Miranda smirked, relaxing back against Jack's chest. “Oh, not at all. Surprised it's taken you this long to figure it out. Of course, critical thinking was never your strong suit.”

“Keep it up, princess,” Jack warned her. “I've got _lots_ of stories I could tell these guys.”

“She's only told us good ones so far,” said Bellarmine.

She could feel Miranda's surprise at that one. “I wasn't aware she had any.”

Hanson leaned forward eagerly. “She said you told the Illusive Man where to shove it before he even started with the Reaper stuff. Did you really turn around and start sabotaging Cerberus operations before the Normandy even got back to the Citadel?”

Miranda shrugged, trying to find somewhere to look that wouldn't make her blush more. “Well...”

Prangley whistled. “Bad _ass_. No wonder he wanted you back.”

“Should've realized that'd never work,” Rademaker said dismissively.

Miranda shifted and fiddled with her glass. “Thank you,” she said, sounding surprised. “I'm... touched. Really.”

Rodriguez gave that little hopeful smile that had made Jack worry about her so much at the Academy. “Just glad to see you home safe, ma'am.”

“I don't actually live here,” Miranda pointed out.

Prangley shrugged. “Home's where the heart is, right?” Rademaker rolled her eyes and called him a pussy, and for a few seconds there was another cookie-throwing fight before Jack cleared her throat and they settled down. Honestly. _Kids_.

After a few more friendly insults and everyone groaning loudly at Hanson's attempts at flirting, Rademaker finally patted his knee pityingly and looked back over to where Miranda was—for once—perfectly happy to just lie back and let Jack lead the conversation.

“So,” she said casually, holding a fresh box of cookies between her feet so it would stay put while she opened it. “You're our new mom, huh?”

Not even Jack was expecting Miranda to stiffen in shock like that. For a second she thought maybe she'd hurt herself somehow, or there was some sort of lingering side effect of the sedatives, because her hand shook and she set the glass down quickly like she was about to drop it.

Jack frowned and nearly asked her what was wrong, but then Miranda relaxed again, even more than before. And her face—she wasn't even grinning, it was something more than that. An honest-to-god, my-face-hurts-because-I'm-so-happy-and-it's-all-your-fault-dammit ear-to-ear smile. And was she—was she _blushing?_ The way she pressed back into Jack's arms was almost shy.

She cleared her throat. “If you'll have me,” she said. She sounded casual enough to fool someone who didn't know her.

The kids didn't seem to notice anything unusual; they threw her casual salutes and said stuff like “Welcome to the club, ma'am” and Hanson called “Catch!” and tossed her a cookie.

Jack stretched and pulled Miranda a little closer to her side. So she might have nuzzled her a bit. So what.

“So does that mean I can send 'em to you when they want to do something stupid like ritually sacrificing Hanson's socks?” she asked, just to Miranda. “'Cause that happened.”

Miranda swallowed hard, like she was tearing up or something, and turned a little so she could look up at Jack without hurting her neck.

“I'll nag them about safe sex and keeping their grades up until they hate me,” she said with a smile. “Ask Oriana.”

Jack was seriously considering kissing her because she was just... fucking adorable, all right, and gorgeous and hot as fuck and here and safe and hers. Then Prangley overshot with his cookie-throwing and hit her in the eye, which kind of ruined the mood.

Whatever.

Plenty of time later. None of these guys were going anywhere.

 


End file.
